"It feels as if the Hand that shaped the heavens has turned its face away from this land, leaving its people to breathe sorrow the way exiles breathe the cold of outer darkness.
Gaza is no longer a city; it is a place cast out of creation, a forgotten limb of the world, a valley where even fallen angels would tremble to descend.
Today was meant to be my single day of rest, the one hour in the week when my spirit could loosen its chains and drift into silence.
But Gaza does not grant rest to any soul.
Gaza is the place where rest goes to die.
Gaza gives nothing; Gaza only receives the weight of human suffering.
I woke early, not by my own will, but to thunder breaking open the sky as though the heavens themselves were mourning.
For a heartbeat, I cursed the sound, and then remembrance struck me: more than seventy percent of Gaza’s people now live beneath cloth instead of ceilings.
And truthfully, calling them “tents” is already a mercy. `
These are not dwellings; they are scraps of defeated fabric trembling in the wind, veils meant more to hide human humiliation than to shield from rain.
They stand as frail testaments to those forced to sleep within them, as if stitched by angels who had lost their wings.
I looked out the window. Children ran barefoot through the storm, wearing thin summer clothes in winter rain, not with the wild beauty poets imagine, but with the quiet tragedy of a people trapped in their fourth season of exile.
Their tents sagged under the downpour, the earth beneath them dissolving into mud, and because the homes that once held them are now dust, the sky itself has become their only roof.
A roof that bleeds cold, punishes bone, and spares no heart beneath it.
This city has become the throne of eternal grief. Here, God seems to gather those He has marked with sorrow upon their foreheads. This is not a city. It is a mausoleum of memory, a curse carved into the earth, a wound so deep it demands a new word in the language of the heavens.
One day, perhaps, the scribes of some future scripture will write:
Gaza, the land where the forsaken walked, where angels wept, and where even storms remembered to grieve.
#WoundedGaza"
https://x.com/ezzingaza/status/1989355741002502361